


Maybe

by illyrian_bitch_queen



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, Maybe - Freeform, acomaf, i still cant figure out what to put in these tags?, kind of nessian i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrian_bitch_queen/pseuds/illyrian_bitch_queen
Summary: Nesta reflects on her new position as a high fae, and recognizes the weight of her youngest sister's relationships with the fae in this world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on tumblr requested Nesta's point of view, reflecting on Feyre and Rhys and their relationship. It ended up being a liiiiittle broader than that :)

I hated the fae. I always had, and I always would. No matter that I had now become one. I wasn’t a real fae, just like Elain wasn’t. We’d been forced to become this. But those around us were _real_  fae, through and through.

And Rhysand was the worst of them.

He had this act that he put on around Elain and I. He would be polite, respectful, but not friendly. He was kind, but never overly so. It was like he was indifferent to us, but still harbored something inside that was repulsed by us.

Most likely, because fae hated humans. So now that we were fae, he had to be kind. But because we’d been mortals, he didn’t want to be.

I had made it my goal to protect Elain from these people, and to keep Rhysand from forgetting that he had no right to treat us as any less than honored guests after what _his_  fucking cause had put us through.

But, although he treated us as guests, we weren’t honored. Cassian, the only one of them who had ever shown any kind of emotion about Elain and I, one way or another, was wounded still and had been on bed rest since we’d all returned from that damned king’s throne room.

Now, Rhysand and his friends were constantly rushing around, talking over maps that I couldn’t see and whispering about things I couldn’t hear. And the worst of it was that I was essentially being ignored. And while I wanted them to ignore Elain, I wanted them to _hear_  me, to know what they’d done to me. But day after day they continued to be kind but edged.

I was tired of it. So, when I knew that Rhysand was in an important meeting with some of his friends, the people now helping him fight a war, I stormed into the dining room where they were gathered. Everyone in the room–except for Rhysand and another woman with short, dark hit that I had never met before–snapped their heads around to face me.

I knew these people. The blonde that had accompanied them in our home when meeting with the mortal queens and the dark winged male.

But Rhysand had wings now, as he raised his eyes slowly to me. His expression, for a moment, was unguarded. He looked tired and angry.

The wings I’d seen from his back, nearly identical to how Cassian’s had looked before he was wounded, faded away in a cloud of dark mist. He stood from where he’d been bent over the table, his palms braced on the wood. “Nesta,” he greeted. “Is there something you need?”

I scowled at him. “I need you all to stop pretending that I’m useless. I can help get my sister back.”

I didn’t care, honestly, if Feyre was brought back. I had Elain, and I knew Feyre could take care of herself. She always had been able to. But I wanted them to think I was useful. I needed them to be willing to make a deal with me to allow Elain and I to leave, to go somewhere that we could be alone and safe.

Rhysand’s eyes seemed to harden at the mention of my sister. Abruptly, I remembered the part of this disaster that involved him. Feyre was his mate. Azriel, the calmest of Rhysand’s little group, had explained to Elain and I both a couple days after our arrival about the mating bond. He said they ought to know, since that red-headed fool had claimed Elain was his mate.

If Rhysand was my sister’s mate…

It was bullshit. The idea of mates, and the fact that Feyre had one. It was all bullshit, but when I entertained the idea of it being a real thing, it made sense. It was just further proof that Feyre wasn’t like Elain and I. She had all but chosen to become what she was. She had run back to the fae after she’d been freed of them. She had _wanted_  to become like this, and the fact that she had a fae mate was proof of it.

And Elain’s ‘mate’ was full of shit. She didn’t have a mate. She was my sister, and that was all.

“Do you fully understand what’s going on right now, Nesta?” Rhysand asked calmly. “Or should I explain?”

I scowled at him. “Someone better explain what the hell is going on. I’ve been brushed off and ignored since I arrived here–”

“You hid in your room and didn’t attempt to speak to us. Not once,” Rhysand cut in, his voice low. “You made a commendable effort to avoid each and every one of us. I figured you didn’t want to be a part of any more of this war than you already had.”

I bared my teeth at him, although it was a useless gesture as I didn’t sport the fanged teeth I had heard horror stories about–teeth that the fae possessed, although I hadn’t yet seen them on any of the fae in this room. “I want Elain and I to be safe from all of this. If you require my help in order for us to be left alone in peace in the long-run, then so be it.”

Rhysand’s eyes flashed with something, and his shoulders curled back, shadows suddenly wisping around him. “You just want to ensure that you get to take off to some hidden little meadow with Elain and be taken care of when this is all over. You’re bargaining for something that you don’t even _need_  to bargain for.” He looked down at the table darkly. “You’re Feyre’s sisters. You’ll be given whatever you want. The only reason I haven’t sent you away somewhere safe already is because you haven’t asked for it. I was holding out a fool’s hope that you may care enough to stay and learn a little more about the world Feyre has been living in for over a year now.”

He raised his eyes back to mine then, his shoulders slumping at whatever expression he found there. “Don’t worry about it. If you want to be taken somewhere else, I’ll send Mor to find somewhere for you, and you can be gone in a day.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “And what of Feyre? Will she be rescued, or are you just going to leave her wherever she’s been taken?”

The male tensed again, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. “She will be back here when she’s no longer needed where she is.” His voice had deepened with anger, shadows of wicked wings appearing behind him.

“Rhys,” the  blonde fae woman said, tapping her long fingernails against the table. “Easy.”

He dipped his head in response, and looked back to me, waving a hand questioningly. “Is there something else you want?”

I paused for a moment before deciding that I _really_  wanted to see this too-composed man lose his cool.

“I think this whole ‘mate’ business is bullshit,” I said honestly. “I think you don’t care about my sister near as much as you pretend to. You’re using her because, somehow, she’s become powerful in this world. You’re going to break her just like that damned Spring Lord has, in the end.”

His face went down, facing the table fully and hiding his expression. But I saw dark claws grow from his fingers. I watched in fascination as they dug into the wood. They appeared to be just shadows, but they did physical damage.

He was _so_   _close_  to losing it. But he managed to pull himself in, stuff his anger down like he was trying to fit it into a little box to be opened at a later date. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Nesta. But please, try to be respectful, or at least decent.”

I pursed my lips, thinking. I was fairly good at reading people, but this man was a true challenge.

“You’re letting Feyre sit somewhere and rot while you stand here and play war with your friends. Somehow, I don’t see that I can trust you have her best interests at heart.”

“Her best interests,” the blonde woman snarled. “Because you’ve _certainly_  always cared for Feyre’s best interests.”

I gave her a crude gesture, but Rhys just looked at me, not even slightly revealing his thoughts now. “Goodnight, Nesta. I’ll see you in the morning after Mor has found a safe place for you and Elain. Sleep well.”

I hissed, giving up my game for now. “I doubt it. Not while I’m under the same roof as you beasts.”

Rhysand just looked at me, not saying anything. When I finally turned on my heel and stormed out the door, slamming it behind me, I felt the cold grip in my chest that meant I had lost.

But I left regardless, gathering up my pride and taking it with me as I stormed down the hall.

“Nesta,” a new voice snapped. I looked over my shoulder at who had been the smallest figure in the room. Her slim fingers were tight around the stem of a wine glass, filled with some kind of thick red wine. Her hair, dark as the night sky and cut close to her chin, fell back from her face, revealing a plain face but startling eyes. She tipped her head to the side as she met my gaze with her silver orbs.

“You owe Rhys an apology for the way you’ve been speaking. And not just tonight, but since you arrived here. He’s been polite to you, has even offered you a place in his home, and you spit in his face and insult his mate.”

Her eyes didn’t leave mine as she spoke, her fingers slipping away from the wine glass as it faded into thin air. “You haven’t grown up in this world, so I’ll cut you some slack and explain a mating bond to you. So get ready for a story.”

She paused for a moment, as if waiting for me to do something. She flicked her hand towards a bench that took up a bit of space in the hall impatiently. “Sit. _Now_.”

The voice didn’t offer a choice, but I fought the command in it anyway, just scowling at her. “No.”

She grinned then, her red lips parting to reveal wicked-looking red stains on her teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that, you little monster.”

Then I cried out as I felt something with no form or true presence take hold of my body. It _shoved_ , and I felt myself being forced down into the seat against my wishes. I gritted my teeth as I tried to fight it, but whatever she was doing was stronger than my obstinence.

She approached, standing across from me, her back leaning against the wall and her arms crossing over her chest as she lowered her head to lock her eyes on mine.

She was terrifying. It reminded me of seeing Feyre for the first time since she’d become fae. Like the spirit, the person inside didn’t match the body. As if the power inside was longing to be tapped into, but the body just wasn’t willing to accept it.

And when she spoke, her voice was nearly cruel. “Since I’m sure you don’t know, as you haven’t cared to try and remember who any of us are, I’m Amren.” She gave me a wicked smile. “I’ve been around for a long, _long_  time. I’m ancient compared to Rhys, who is over five centuries older than _you_. So I’ve seen quite a bit, and I’ve met quite a few mated couples.” She cocked her head to the side as though in thought, although I could tell she’d already planned out her words carefully.

“I had a friend once who never believed in love. He hated the idea of it, of being bound to another so fully. He never had an honest relationship, never committed to anyone. He couldn’t bear to let his freedom go. He was a warrior and a wanderer. He had no place for love. But one day, he met his mate.

“He was a powerful fae, and she was a little lesser fae, a hundred years younger than him. He fell in love with her in mere days after meeting her. They were married within half a year. Although there was never children, there was a love like I’m certain you’ve never seen in a mortal. But one day, she was killed. We never found out who did it, but the day he saw her lying stiff on the floor, her heart stopped permanently and her body cold, his own heart gave out. A perfectly healthy, powerful fae _died_  just from the pain of losing his mate.”

I felt my chest tighten at the thought of a pain so deep. But doubt was thick in my mind. Heartbreak was an expression, not a physical possibility. Amren tipped her head back, eyes going up to the ceiling, as if peering through it and seeing the sky above. “And the change in both Rhys and Feyre since they met each other is a perfect testament to the strength of a mating bond.” Her eyes narrowed on me again. “Are you even aware of what your sister has gone through since she came here?”

I scowled. “Of course. She died and came back as one of you. And then she left the fae that she died for in the first place. Now she’s with you lot, and she’s been left with the other fae that she started with. And she’s dragged Elain and I into this mess.”

Silver eyes seemed to glow in fury. “That’s all you know, isn’t it? That’s what you truly believe?”

I scowled. “It’s all Feyre told me. It’s not my fault if she decided not to tell me the whole truth.”

“No, you’re wrong. It is _entirely_  your own fault that you don’t even understand the danger she’s in right now. You could have asked anyone here about where Feyre was and what she was doing, if she was in trouble, when you would see her again, and any of us would have told you. We would have told you everything that had to do with her situation. But you never asked, and don’t pretend it’s because you think we’re snots to you because you’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to us, and I’m fucking tired of it.” Her words were coming faster and sharper, but were getting no louder. The control she had over herself, even when she was clearly enraged, was daunting.

“You have no care at all for Feyre. You let her wander off into the woods alone to feed your selfish, lazy ass for years. Tamlin took her after she’d killed that damn fae to feed you, and you let it happen. Once, you tried to help. _Once_ , you tried to follow her here. And then you gave up and forgot about her. Then your baby sister came back and she said that she had to leave again. You knew she may die, I know she warned you. And when she came back after paying the price for her love and her selflessness, you shunned her. You weren’t grateful that Feyre was alive when you thought she was dead. You scorned her and insulted her for what she’d become for the sake of our world and yours.

“And now, you ignore all thoughts of her and her well-being, just like you always have, because it’s inconvenient for you. It’s so very _inconvenient_  that Feyre may be killed if she slips up. It’s inconvenient that we’re all focusing on helping her instead of bowing at your feet and begging for forgiveness.”

I glowered at her with all the strength I could muster, even as her words hit hard at a small part of me that allowed them to sink in. It was the truthful part of me, that knew her words were honest.

“I _just_   _asked_  about her. I just asked when she’d be back.”

Amren shook her head incredulously.

“Your sister was a wreck after she turned into a high fae,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no weaker. “Rhys had recognized that she was his mate, but let her go because she didn’t feel the bond yet–which is sometimes how the bond works, especially when so much had happened that could account for her mixed feelings for him. She went back with Tamlin, her lover. They got engaged, and they were supposed to be happy and married within months. But the past isn’t so easily forgotten, especially not with a heart like Feyre’s. She was destroyed. She was terrified all the time, she couldn’t see the color red without panicking, couldn’t sleep without having nightmares and throwing up, and she couldn’t even finish the walk down the aisle on her wedding day.”

I blinked in shock. Feyre had told me the minimum of what I needed to know. She said that she had changed and Tamlin had changed, and she could no longer love him. She had never said that they were supposed to have been married. She never said she’d fallen apart on her wedding day. She had never told me that she couldn’t sleep through the night, that she had been such a mess after she came back.

And suddenly, I was understanding that there was a new side to my sister.

Ever since I could remember, Feyre had been the strongest of us. She’d never wavered. She’d picked up our slack and made sure we survived. She’d been too serious to bear being around her, too mature to see as younger than me. She had always been strong. She’d complained, sure, when we refused to help her with anything. But she had done it all anyway. Since she was fourteen, she had been showing us all how much stronger she was.

Somehow, during those years–or maybe it began sooner, before we ran out of money–she had become an untouchable figure to me. She’d become this damned god of sorts. She had become too perfect, too strong for me to possibly accept as my baby sister, as someone for me to take care of. She didn’t even seem like a real person to me. She was completely unrelatable.

But to hear that she hadn’t adapted to being a fae as nicely as it had all seemed…

She had nightmares so bad she vomited. She had reacted with panic to harmless reminders of what she’d seen or done. She hadn’t been able to marry the man she loved, she was so wrecked.

Amren looked at me, seeming to sense my thoughts, picking out my weakness. “Oh yes. Your little sister wasn’t always as strong as she is now. She barely ate in the Spring Court, and when she did she threw it all up during the night when her memories twisted into vicious nightmares. You could count her damn bones. Tamlin allowed it to happen, was entirely too adept at ignoring her physical and emotional changes. He was destroying her by ignoring what had changed in her. By the time Rhys brought her here, she was an empty shell. She didn’t react to anything, didn’t feel anything. She was hollow and dead inside. All she knew was fear of the things that reminded her of what she went through. She couldn’t even touch a paintbrush.”

Shock ran through me like lightning. All Feyre had ever seemed to care about, even when she worked so hard to feed us, was painting. She had always said she wanted to have enough time and money someday to paint her days away.

She finally had the time, money, and peace to paint, and she hadn’t? She hadn’t been _able_  to? Amren continued before I could think much more on it.

“Rhys brought her back. He struggled for months to get her out of the darkness that had swallowed her up. But he was the only one that could do it. She was so far gone that only someone who loved her unconditionally, someone who could _see_  her and understand her with every fibre of their being, had a chance at bringing her back.

“ _That’s_  what a mating bond is. That’s what a mate is. It’s more than just someone you love. It’s your soulmate, the person created for you. It’s a rare bond, rare enough that most fae never find their mate. It’s something to be treasured. And the fae in a mating bond are near obsessive about protecting their mate, especially the males.” She raised a brow at me deliberately. “So I would be a bit more careful about taunting Rhysand about Feyre. You’re lucky he hasn’t taught you a bit about his power already. And, honestly, I think Feyre’s reaction if she ever hears about the way you’ve treated her mate would be even worse. I think, someday you’ll see the true extent to each of their powers, and you’ll find yourself feeling very foolish for taunting either of them.”

She turned then, as if done with the conversation, but paused, glancing over her shoulder. “And someday, you’ll realize their worth as people, and I hope it hurts like hell when you realize that you’ve treated them like scum for all this time when they’re probably two of the most decent, kind-hearted people I’ve ever met–fae or mortal. And you’ll remember how well they both treated you, and how much you took advantage of it. And they’ll be moved on, given up on you probably, when you’re realizing just how much you’ve fucked yourself by cutting them out of your life.”

Then, she turned away fully. She walked down the hall and seemed to be storming, even as she walked leisurely. That _creature_ was horrifying. She emphasized Feyre and Rhys’ power, but said nothing of her own, which was certainly present if she had forced me into my seat without even a twitch of her fingers.

Her words rung in my head like the loudest of bells, sending shockwaves through my mind and body as I paced down the hall, past the room Amren had slipped back into with the others, past the room that Elain was waiting for me in, further into the house than I’d ever gone without someone by my side.

I saw a shadow flit by me and swung around to catch a glimpse of a wispy girl, barely even truly there before disappearing again. She seemed to have been made up completely of shadows.

I shook my head. Some friend of those damned fae, no doubt. Then I grimaced at my own thoughts before continuing until I reached the stairs. I stood at the top and stared down at the door for a moment before making my way down them slowly, a hand sliding over the railing by my side cautiously. I still wasn’t used to my fae body, although more had changed in Elain than I. Her legs had seemed to lengthen, and she was always tripping over them like a newborn deer. I had, for the most part, just grown leaner. My body, though, seemed to respond to any small movement much more quickly than I expected it to, a lot more smoothly.

Stairs were something I had only tackled a couple other times, and had nearly fallen the first time.

I sighed when I reached the bottom without incident, looking around warily before pushing through the front door, shutting it behind me silently.

As soon as the wind brushed across my skin, I felt better. Amren’s words still twisted in my mind, but the wind seemed to separate them a bit, let me focus better. I looked out at the city that I had only seen through the window of Elain and I’s room. People were walking up and down the sidewalks, everyone dressed differently than each other. I frowned at some of the odd clothing, but nobody else took notice of the woman walking down the street in full battle armor, or the man wearing nothing but a pair of pants folded above his bare feet.

I shook my head. More fae oddities.

Hesitantly, I walked out past the unlocked gate at the front of the property and stepped onto the sidewalk.

The hem of my thin dress hissed in the wind as I looked out at the world with new eyes.

I’m ancient compare to Rhys, who is over five centuries older than _you_.

Rhysand was over five-hundred years old?

I shivered at the reminder of a fae’s immortality. The immortality that I now possessed.

But worse, was the thought that my baby sister was in love with someone five centuries her senior. Did she _know_  that he was so old? Somehow, among everything else, it seemed wrong to me that someone his age would have interest in a nineteen year old girl. If not for it being somewhat inappropriate, then surely because she was nowhere near him in maturity.

But a look Feyre had often given me in the past reminded me that, although she was young in body, she was old in soul.

She had frequently gotten this look about her when she was human, a weary expression that I had seen only in men and women so old that they were nearly decrepit. It was as though she felt and understood so much more than everyone else, as if she was ancient already. And when I saw her for the first time as a fae, she had retained that ancient aura, but it no longer seemed so weary. It had seemed as though her soul was excited at the prospect of eternity, as though she had seen much, learned much, been hurt much, but was ready to take on more.

Perhaps she fit well with ancient creatures, more than she would with her own age, who were mere newborns to those with a soul like hers. Maybe she could never love someone with a young, mortal soul.

Maybe she was born with an ancient soul, suited for the immortal life she was to live now, with an immortal man.

Amren had said that mates were created for each other, after all.

That friend of hers…had he really died just from the heartbreak of his mate’s death?

And did that always happen? Did that mean that if Rhys were to die, Feyre would die too? And what about that man who had called himself Elain’s mate? Would his death bring Elain’s?

I would have to protect her and her mate if that were the case. I would _not_  let Elain die because of some idiotic connection to a fool.

_You weren’t grateful that Feyre was alive when you thought she was dead. You scorned her and insulted her for what she’d become for the sake of our world and yours._

That wasn’t true. Not completely.

I _had_  been grateful to see Feyre alive, to know that I hadn’t seen my little sister for the last time all those months ago. But I had been more skeptical than anything. Nothing had made sense. Why had she come back? Was it really her, or was it a fae trick?

I hadn’t had the slightest idea, but when I saw her eyes, saw that ancient soul shining out of them with a new energy, I knew it was her. But she had changed, and possibly brought danger with her.

So I hadn’t greeted her like I should have. I didn’t ask her where she’d been, what she’d been through. Instead, I had been wary. And when she revealed those damned ears, the fucking _crown_  on her head, I had immediately rejected her as my sister.

My sister wasn’t fae. She wasn’t the creature that had shown up at our door. No, my little sister was gone and in her place stood a wicked being, the same species that had taken her from us in the first place.

I had insulted her, hurt her as badly as I could manage at that first dinner. And the daggers that Rhysand had sent me with his eyes, the words that Cassian had shot at me, had been well-deserved. But when Feyre responded in such a fiery, out of character way…

Yes, she had certainly changed.

But maybe her changes had nothing to do with her new body, and everything to do with the people around her. Maybe the change wasn’t because she was a fae now, but because she was _happy_  now.

The light in her eyes, the way she’d stood up for herself, and the way she’d held her head high, told a story about a girl who knew her worth, who was happy with herself.

It wasn’t the girl I’d known before she met Rhysand.

So maybe Amren was right about that. Maybe Feyre and Rhysand did belong together. Maybe they brought out the best in each other. And maybe Feyre was created to be this new creature.

Since she was born, she had been made for more than a mortal life. I remembered our father telling her once that she was made for better things than our little cottage, living in squalor.

Maybe this was the thing that so many people had seen in her. This was the life she was meant to live. An immortal one, with her immortal lover and friends, with the people who brought out the best in her. Maybe she was meant to do bigger things than I had ever imagined she could do.

Maybe I was meant for more too. More than just protecting Elain, more than hating everyone else.

And, maybe, the first step was to forgive Feyre for all the things that I had pinned the blame on her for. It was time to stop making things up to be angry with Feyre about.

Why was I so angry with her to begin with?

For so long, I’d had this _rage_ simmering, particularly for my baby sister. I’d resented her. For what? Keeping my spoiled ass alive for five years? For being strong enough to take care of us, if only to keep a promise she had never agreed to? I resented her for being honorable, for being selfless. Because she was the kind of person I could never be.

She had been the one to keep Elain and I alive. I was the oldest, and the youngest of us had kept us alive while I spent every penny she managed to bring home on trivial things.

We had dragged her down enough that all she wanted was to be taken care of, to not have to fight to survive. She’d had no bigger ambitions than to have time to paint instead of having to trudge into the woods every day to find us food.

Maybe that was what Tamlin had given her. He’d supported us, and he’d surely supported her. She’d painted. And maybe that was all she had needed.

But then she came back, and she didn’t yet have that light in her eyes that she had now, even though she had clearly been happier than before that mongrel dragged her in Prythian. She hadn’t been fully happy. She’d been cared for, but she wasn’t the kind of person to live blandly. And that light in her eyes that had come after she met Rhysand, that was true fulfillment. That was the strength she’d always held. That was _her_  shining through, becoming the person she’d never been able to be before, had never known she longed to be.

She was meant for this world, for this new power she possessed. She was meant for _Rhysand_. 

And it was harder than I expected to not resent her for that too.

She’d found a love like nothing I’d ever witnessed. She’d found a good man–even if he was a fae–that loved her more than I’d ever seen a man love a woman. He was powerful and strong, and certainly attractive. And there was something dark about him, something that was somehow present in my sister as well.

Feyre had this profound love. She had a beautiful new fae body, one that she fit into much better than I fit into mine. The sharp, clean edges of the fae body gave her a more refined, ethereal look. They only made me appear even more wickedly sharp than I had always been.

She fit into this life better than I did.

I closed my eyes against the world for a moment, trying to bring my thoughts back to myself.

In that moment, there were footsteps behind me.

“She mentioned you in a letter.”

I opened my eyes and the world seemed a bit more vivid. I felt more grounded, more _present_.

Rhysand came up beside me, his hand stuffed in his pockets. He was no longer wearing the forced pleasant expression he usually wore around me. He looked exhausted, stressed out, and even a little frightened as he spoke.

“It wasn’t in the most recent one she sent. The most recent one was all recon, all war plans and maneuvers.” He smiled a bit bitterly as I turned to listen. “But the one before that, she asked about you. She was concerned, deeply so, if she used our short time for communication to ask after you and your sister. We only get a few minutes every week or so to get our letters back and forth. We try to only put the most important things in them. There’s hardly even time for a few words between mates. It’s all about the war. 

“But she found the time to ask about you both, so I took the time to answer. I told her that the two of you were adapting, doing well although not excellent. I told her you were getting on fine with us, if only to give her one less thing to worry about. I hate lying to her, but it won’t do her any good to know the truth anyway. Anything I can do to ease her stress is worth her eventual anger over my lies.” He paused, looking out at his city and blowing a deep breath out, his eyes sparkling in amusement as he watched it crystallize in the chilly air.

I blinked at the very _human_  action. It was a playful, almost childish thing to do. It was hard for my mind to wrap around. Here was the ancient, dangerous fae that I had hated all my life, as frightening and deadly as they come, and he was talking about my baby sister with this soft tone, and he was playing with the cold air.

“The chill reminds me of Feyre. She can manipulate ice, a gift from the Winter Court.”

It was a slight twist to the knife in my gut that I hadn’t known that, that I had never cared enough to ask about what kind of power she had inherited when she got her new body. But Rhysand’s light chuckle told me that it hadn’t been intentional. He had just been talking absently.

“Hell, everything reminds me of her. I could look at a damn candle and remember her fire. Every time I look down the street I see her walking with Mor. I can’t even go to half the shops or streets in Velaris because they remind me too much of her, and remind me that she’s not here, by my side.”

His eyes were sadder now, darker, as he looked down the street towards a section of the city that was beginning to shine brightly as the sunset approached.

“Why haven’t you brought her back, if you long for her to be by your side so much?”

He blinked, apparently surprised that I had responded. He looked at me and smiled sadly.

“If she didn’t want to be doing this, I would have already torn the damned Spring Court apart to get her back. But this was her plan. She knew that if we could get someone on the inside of the Spring Court, someone who had Tamlin’s trust, we could get all of their plans, could figure out what Hybern was going to do before he did it and counter their attacks. And she knew that it would be better to take the Spring Court down from the inside, to make sure it fell completely while still keeping those against Tamlin’s ideas safe.” He sighed. “I miss her more than anything, and I hate that she’s in danger, that Tamlin has his hands on her.” His jaw was right, his stance a bit rigid as he talked about the other High Lord. “But this is her wish. And she _is_  helping her court greatly. I would never take that choice from her, however much it pains me.”

I swallowed thickly at his tone. So much love and respect…

Had I ever talked about my baby sister like that before? Had I ever talked about her lovingly, or even respectfully? Had _anyone_  ever talked about her like that before she met Rhysand? It was disgusting that I couldn’t recall a time that I had even said something pleasant about Feyre.

“She always wants to sacrifice herself,” I murmured. “And we always let her.”

Rhysand bowed his head slightly. “She’s strong enough to make the decision. She knows her worth to our court. She knows how important she is to us. If she starts slipping up, or getting into a situation where she’s unsafe, she’ll call for us. She won’t sacrifice herself this time. She’s too important, and she knows that a sacrifice of her life would hurt us much more than help us, no matter the circumstances.” He gave me a stern look. “So don’t think that we’ll never see her again. She’s coming back, and she’s coming back with more power and information than she left with.” He paused, averting his eyes. “You’ll have a chance to apologize.”

I gritted my teeth. “What makes you think there’s anything for me to apologize for?”

He sighed, shaking his head raggedly. “I can see your guilt. I saw it in the mirror for centuries after my mother and sister were killed, and I saw in it Feyre after she killed those two fae to save us. Trust me, I recognize the look.”

I blinked down at my feet, brushing thoughts of his mother and sister away for another time. “When did she kill two fae?”

Rhysand glanced at me knowingly. “She’s killed three innocent fae in her life, and each time she was set up to it.”

“I know about the wolf,” I said. “What about the other two?”

Rhys pursed his lips, looking out at the city. “Under the Mountain, Amarantha set Feyre up with three trials that she had to complete to free Tamlin’s magic, and essentially the rest of us, considering Tamlin was certain to use his power to kill Amarantha and free our trapped magic. The first trial was physical. She excelled at it. The second nearly broke her. She had to read a riddle, but Amarantha didn’t know that she couldn’t read. I had to cheat to help her through it, or she would have been killed along with Lucien, the red-headed fae that said he was Elain’s mate. They were close friends then, and the pressure nearly cracked her. The third trial did break her. She had to stab three innocent fae in the hearts with an ash dagger. The first two were bad enough, but the third one was Tamlin. But she figured out the second part of Amarantha’s curse-Tamlin’s heart had become stone. So she killed two fae and stabbed Tamlin for the sake of Prythian. She said later that she had intended on killing herself as soon as the High Lords got their magic back.”

He said all this with the tone of someone who was completely withdrawn from what had happened. But I could see the darkness hovering over his eyes when I turned to look at him, shock dropping my jaw. Feyre had told us that she went through three trials. She’d told us that she’d died. But she’d never gone into detail. She had never told us that she had wanted to kill herself for the things she’d done.

So I looked at Rhysand, her mate, and I saw the truth in his eyes. I saw the pain and darkness she had suffered through. “Will you tell me everything?” I asked, my voice so soft I barely recognized it. “Will you tell me everything that has happened to my sister? Everything that she’s had to do, everything that she thought was too dark to trouble me with?”

And my baby sister’s mate looked at me, a look on his face that made me think he was calculating something. Adding up the way I’d behaved, subtracting what he knew I was already aware of. He was thinking the story he was about to tell through, trying to find the best way to tell it, to figure out what I needed to know and what I didn’t. But I shook my head, growing desperate. The more I heard of Feyre, the more I recognized her as something other than the newly made, powerful fae that she was now. The more I heard of her strength and weakness, the more I began to be able to pull likenesses out between the fae this male loved and my somber little sister.

“Please,” I croaked, pleading for the first time in so long. “Please tell me all of it. Don’t leave things out. I need to hear everything. I need to understand her.”

His violet eyes settled on me with clarity as he recognized what I wanted.

I wanted to really know my sister. I wanted to stop holding her at arm’s length, this awful hatred between us. I wanted to know her, the new person she’d become, the new brightness on her eyes. I wanted to know her world, the world that had stolen her heart enough that she’d been willing to die for it. And I wanted to know this man that she loved. The man that had fixed her when she’d shattered, the man that had saved her, that had given me the chance to forgive her, that had kept her alive and really _living_  long enough for me to have this day of realization.

He began at the beginning, the flashes of a different life that had been his sole happiness for so long. He told me about his first encounter with my sister, the way she’d lied through her teeth with a fire that could put even me to shame. His jaw was tight as he spoke about her arrival Under the Mountain, the way the Attor had thrown her forward, the love she’d been burning with for his enemy, the agony he’d undergone when she’d been beaten bloody. And then came the trials. Fucking _hell_ , the things she’d had to go through, the things they’d done to her and made her do. He talked of the bond he’d forged between them, admitted to drugging her every night if only to keep her from falling apart. He cursed Tamlin for doing nothing, when _‘even fucking Lucien_ ’ helped her, at the risk of his own life. He closed his eyes tightly when he recounted the end, the way he’d been forced to watch while Amarantha cracked her spine, the way he’d refused to let her go, the way he’d manipulated the High Lords into saving her.

He told me of the months after that, when he’d tried to let her go, even while loving her so fully. His fists clenched with the fury he still felt for what happened on her wedding day, his eyes blazing about the way Tamlin had trapped her. He told me of the hollowness the Spring Lord had left in her, the way she’d nearly allowed herself to succumb to the panic and death that had crippled her for so long. And his eyes glimmered with pride when he spoke of the way she’d defended their city, the suffering she’d condemned herself to for the sake of her court by allowing Tamlin to take her.

And when he grew silent, the sun had disappeared from the sky, and his eyes were damp but shining with pride.

And I knew that he was what my baby sister deserved. She deserved someone who loved her, even at her worst, someone who would always support her but never trap her. She deserved a man who wasn’t too proud to shed tears for her, for the sacrifices she’d made and the love that they shared that was so strong he would cry in front of someone who had done nothing by ridicule him.

So I put a hand on his shoulder, and I gave him time to compose himself before I spoke again.

“I’m glad that Feyre has you. And I’m glad she’s found this home. And I hope it’s not too late for me to try and make it my home as well, or to come back from what I’ve snarled at the both of you. I want to be there for my sister like I never was, like you have been. And I’d like to offer whatever help I can to get her back and to help save this place that she loves.”

Rhysand’s eyes were serious, but lighter somehow at my words. And he smiled, a real smile. He turned to me fully and his face was so different like this, the hard angles smoothed and the darkness washed out a bit. I wondered if Feyre looked so different when she smiled. Perhaps she wouldn’t seem so foreign that way. Maybe I could learn to smile like that, to soften my own jagged edges.

This would be the day I began to learn. Maybe I could even greet Feyre with my new smile by the time she returned.

Maybe I could learn to love this life, and maybe I could learn to love my sister as I always should have.

Maybe we could all be a family, me and Elain and Feyre. I could learn to love all the people Feyre now loved here.

Maybe our family could be bigger and happier than I’d ever invisioned before.


End file.
